All Chapters of The IronClad Vow: Chapter 1 - Chapter 5

The rain didn't fall on New York; it assaulted it. Each drop was a bullet against the panoramic glass of Lucian Thorne’s penthouse, a sixty-fifth-floor fortress where the sounds of the city were nothing more than a muted, distant hum. He preferred it that way. Distance was power. Control was everything.Ivy Quinn felt like a ghost in the cavernous space, her reflection a pale, shimmering smudge in the dark glass. She clutched the worn fabric of her coat, a threadbare shield against the glacial air conditioning. The room was a testament to its owner: sleek, expensive, and utterly devoid of warmth. A single monolithic desk of obsidian, a few angular leather chairs, and a breathtaking, terrifying view of the storm-lashed skyline. No personal photos. No art. Just power, stated plainly.“Let’s dispense with the pretense, Miss Quinn.”His voice was not loud. It was a low, resonant vibration that cut through the room, bypassing her ears and settling like a weight in her chest. He stood with

The first morning in the Thorne penthouse dawned with a silence that was anything but peaceful. Ivy woke in the vast, unfamiliar bed, the sterile luxury of the room feeling more like a hotel suite than a home. For a disorienting second, she didn’t know where she was. Then the memory of the cold wedding, the loosening wedding band on her finger, and Lucian’s impassive face crashed down on her.She dressed in her own simple clothes, a soft, grey sweater and dark slacks, a small act of defiance. When she ventured out into the main living area, she found him already there, a fortress of concentration behind his tablet, a half-empty cup of black coffee at his elbow. The morning sun carved his profile in light and shadow, making him look both formidable and, annoyingly, perfectly composed.He didn’t look up as she entered. “The chef is in the kitchen. Tell him what you want.”Ivy hesitated, then moved toward the sleek, state-of-the-art kitchen. A man in a crisp white uniform gave her a poli

The world snapped back into focus with a dizzying, painful clarity. The serene ballroom was a warzone of splintered crystal, overturned tables, and the panicked cries of the city’s elite. The air was thick with dust, choking and sweet.But for Lucian, the world had narrowed to the crimson line marring the pale skin of Ivy’s arm.“Medic!” His roar cut through the chaos, a sound of pure, undiluted authority that brooked no argument. He was still crouched over her, his body a cage shielding her from the ongoing confusion, his hand a viselike band around her uninjured wrist as if she might vanish.“Lucian, I’m fine,” Ivy insisted, her voice shaky. She tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness and the firm pressure of his hand on her shoulder held her down.“You are not fine,” he bit out, his eyes blazing. The blood from the cut on his temple was now a dark, drying trail. He ripped the pristine white pocket square from his tuxedo jacket with a violent jerk and pressed it against the gash on